


Replacement

by I-Know-Im-Trash (ThisIsAVeryUniqueName)



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Depression, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 14:43:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7688440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisIsAVeryUniqueName/pseuds/I-Know-Im-Trash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morty has trouble sleeping, before deciding he is just too done with this shit</p>
<p>First fic - I would love feedback and/or criticism. All I can say, is I'm sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Replacement

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd

She'd finally done it. Adrenaline was pulsing through her body, vibrating throughout her every step. But halfway up the stairs, the thrill of finally taking action wore off and Beth was left slightly regretting her previous outburst.

After finding out that Jerry had been attempting to steal money from dad again (seriously, what sort of idiot tries to steal money from an inter-dimensional OAP *twice*?) She finally told him he had to leave - and meant it. It wasn't just this of course. It had been many years of his consistent unemployment, his needy co-dependance, and his general jerkyness to everyone. She also recognised that her alcohol dependency was becoming all too like her fathers - moving from wine to stronger spirits. She'd even taken to carrying around a flask, although hers was much more discreet and nobody knew about it. On her way to the kitchen to refill said flask she was debating asking Rick for some of his pure Ethanol when she bumped into Jerry. In her annoyed 'not-quite-drunk-enough' state she was suddenly furious and started spewing abuse before telling him to "take his worthless ass back to whichever hole he dragged himself out of". When Beth had stopped seeing red she realised that at some point the whiney bitch started crying and was sniffling on the way to the bathroom. She'd immediately stalked to the kitchen and grabbed the first drink she could find, forgetting about Rick. It was then, when her back was turned, that a small flushed figure dashed upstairs. If Beth had even glanced in that direction she would have seen a flash of brunette, and the lanky figure that sauntered after, but she was too busy refilling her flask. Once done, she turned to head upstairs. Reaching the final step, she downed the last of her drink - that might have been vodka but also might have been bleach - and passed out.

"Wh-wh-what were you th-thinking Rick? Mom c-could have seen us!" Morty cried whilst flopping on to his bed, panting heavily. He found himself still acting as if he cared.  
"I thought you-you were in to that sort of shit MoOURRGHty" the elder replied, winking at his grandson. Although he couldn't resist teasing Morty, he was worried about his daughter. When he looked at her he saw himself - which was the reason for his worry. He saw too much of himself in her. She'd been passing out more, and even had started carrying her own flask. She would have been fired if not for her natural Sanchez intelligence. Yet she still wouldn't get rid of that lout Jerry, even though he really was a total and complete waste of space and Rick knew he was able to prove it mathematically. He still refused to show anybody his compassionate side though, so therefore continued taking easy jabs at Morty.   
"Besides M-M-Morty, unless you wanted the bacteria from Flargalarb to-to steAURRGHl your - to use your atoms to incubate their eggs, we n-needed to get outta there"  
Morty began to protest that *Rick* was the one who allowed the bacteria to get through the portal, however before he could start, he realised Rick had passed out on the floor. He'd long ago given up trying to figure out if Ricks frequent bouts of unconsciousness were due to his regular intoxication, or just exhaustion. He was briefly concerned about the bacteria in the garage, but he wrote it off, convincing himself Rick would deal with it like he always did. And if he didn't? The boy had run out of fucks to give. An entire year of death trap errand runs had desensitised him. Morty then considered what to do with the body on the floor. He briefly entertained the idea of dragging Rick back to his own room, or wrestling some clothes onto his deadweight body, before deciding he was just too done with this shit, and simply draped a blanket over his grandfather before climbing into bed.

Not being able to sleep, as was becoming the case more and more frequently, Morty pulled on some pajama pants and padded down to the garage to get some sleeping pills. He tried to pretend he didn't see his passed out mother, or Jerry crying on the couch. He tried to block everything out, just focusing on the task of getting the pills. He focused so hard, in fact, that he forgot all about the deadly bacteria there. He was so focused on his single task that he couldn't cry out for help when he was torn apart piece by piece. So focused, he managed to get all the way to the medicine cabinet. Rick knew this because the bottle was still clasped in his cold, dead hand when they found him the next afternoon.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, as I said, I'd love any feed back, critism, corrections, ect. I've started writing another chapter for this fic, but I feel like this could be a standalone fic, so I haven't decided if I'll post it. I guess I'll see how it goes, and thanks again for reading :)


End file.
